Asleep on the Job
by Fayolinn
Summary: Valjean (le Maire Madeleine) falls asleep on the job and Javert's not sure what to do.
1. Chapter 1

**Originally written in April of 2013.**

* * *

The first time Javert had walked in on _le maire _sound asleep at his desk, the Inspector wasn't sure if it was within his rights to wake him. He had come in to give his report but now stood lingering awkwardly in the doorway, afraid to let himself in without permission. Should he cross the room to politely nudge Monsieur Madeleine awake? Or was that pushing the boundaries too far?

Javert glanced over his shoulder, but the factory workers below were oblivious to his trivial dilemma and the foreman was no where in sight. His blue eyes flashed back to the slumbering man, his conscience conflicted.

Pursing his lips, Javert decided to risk a reprimand and quietly crossed the floor. As he neared, the mayor's soft snores could be heard. The man's cheek rested upon the papers he had been reviewing; his curly brown hair framed his face perfectly. Javert was loathe to wake him — he looked too peaceful and the man deserved a good rest.

But if Javert didn't wake him, then there was always a chance he'd be upset that someone hadn't done so. _"Why did you continue to let me sleep?" _he might ask. _"There were things that needed to be done!"_

Javert raised a tentative hand, removing his glove as he did so with the other, and let out a tiny breath before moving to gently shake _le maire_'s shoulder. As he did so, the back of his hand brushed against a curl of Madeleine's hair, tickling the skin. Javert gasped involuntarily at the touch, a small shiver running down the length of his arm.

Monsieur Madeleine's hair was incredibly soft. Without thinking, Javert tenderly ran a small lock of brunet hair between his fingers. Before he knew it, the Inspector suddenly had an irrational urge to run his hands through those curls, twisting and pulling or even just caressing.

The thought scared him, but not as much as the fact that Monsieur Madeleine was now stirring, snores dying away. Javert's hand retreated as if he had touched a hot stove and he stepped several paces back, shoving his naked hand back in the glove. His cheeks burned as he stood at attention, spine stiff as iron.

Monsieur Madeleine sat up groggily, yawning softly to himself. He blinked sleepy, milk-chocolate eyes at Javert before smiling a smile of understanding, showing his dimples.

"You know, for someone who patrols France's streets with an iron fist, you sure have a gentle touch."

Javert paled whiter than a sheet. His eyes widened involuntarily and his mouth worked silently like a gaping fish. "I—forgive me, Monsieur le Maire, I didn't—you were—"

The mayor chuckled, waving a hand loftily in the air. "Inspector, Inspector," he muttered good-naturedly, standing and moving to shut the door. Javert remained motionless, hardly daring to breathe. "I meant no harm by my comment, forgive _me_. You were only doing myself a favor by waking me, do not worry yourself."

Madeleine stopped before Javert, offering a smaller, more intimate smile. "Relax… please, Javert."

Javert's breathing was still unsteady, but he allowed his stance to ease somewhat. He was still half expecting a demotion or some sort of punishment. It was only right for having such inappropriate thoughts.

"Forgive me," he breathed. He had meant it for God, for himself; for Madeleine, of course, but he hadn't planned on saying it aloud.

The mayor simply continued to smile, resting his hand on Javert's shoulder. "There is nothing to forgive," he murmured. Then, before Javert could ponder what to say next, he leaned in, leaving a small, chaste kiss on the corner of Javert's mouth. "Excuse me, Inspector." Then he was out the door and gone.

A good half a minute passed before Javert released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His fingers ran over the spot where Madeleine's lips had pressed against his skin — the area tingled with promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**I hadn't planned on a second chapter, but someone had requested a sequel, so here we are.**

* * *

_1 week later_

Javert ascended the stairs to Monsieur Madeleine's office, hat tucked neatly beneath his arm. He ignored his pounding heart and convinced himself that it was simply the sound of his boots coming into contact with each step he took. It wasn't like he was nervous, no. Inspector Javert was never nervous.

But that was before Javert had been kissed by another man.

It hadn't been a real kiss, though. It was chaste and quick; perhaps _le maire _had meant to bestow an amicable greeting to his cheek instead and missed. Or perhaps it was a simple tease to ruffle Javert's feathers? Javert had hardly noticed he had reached the top step before he stopped abruptly, narrowly avoiding a collision with another person.

It was Monsieur le Maire himself. "Ah, beg your pardon, Inspector," the man muttered apologetically, flashing his usual convivial smile. "I was just on my way out for a quick errand. I see you have your report — if you don't mind, would you wait for me inside my office? I know it's late and I apologize for the inconvenience, so make yourself comfortable!" And then he was hurrying down the stairs, out of sight.

Javert opened his mouth to call out something, but thought against it and resorted to blinking dumbly, still trying to process the mayor's rushed words. Well… if Madeleine wanted him to wait, then he'd wait. Allowing himself in, Javert's eyes wandered around the spacious office. His eyes lingered over _le maire_'s chair — "make yourself comfortable" were his words — but humbly decided a small chair to the side of the desk would do just fine.

The minutes dragged by and Javert felt his eyelids grow heavy. The sun was setting and though Javert made a conscious effort to never show drowsiness, he had been working nearly non-stop pursuing dangerous criminals for days without rest, and his fatigue was finally catching up on him. Soon he could fight it no longer and succumbed to sleep's embrace.

* * *

Madeleine softly excused himself into the office, peering inside. The corners of his lips upturned at the sight of the Inspector asleep in a chair, hat in his lap and head slightly tilted to one side. The man had probably worked himself to the bone, performing his duty relentlessly. Madeleine often made suggestions to ease up a little and allow himself a short vacation now and then, but Javert always declined.

Madeleine kept his steps light as he approached the sleeping police officer, eyes picking up the slight rise and fall of his uniformed chest, the curve of Javert's dark eyelashes. Madeleine's mind wheeled back to when he and Javert had last conversed, when he had been awoken by Javert's gentle touch — to his hair, of all places.

Without any thought for self-restraint, Madeleine reached out to stroke a tuft of unkempt hair on Javert's head, settling it back into place. The Inspector's hair was coarser than his, brunet with flecks of gray, but pleasing to the touch nonetheless. Intrigued, Madeleine traced the side of Javert's face with the back of his fingers; just as he reached his jaw, Javert's eyes snapped open.

"M-Monsieur le Maire!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet and puffing out his chest. "Forgive me, I had not meant to fall asleep."

Madeleine placed his hands behind his back, eyes crinkling as he grinned. The sight of Javert bewildered and flustered was oddly endearing. "At ease, Inspector, I will tell no one."

Javert appeared torn between relief and embarrassment. Clearing his throat, he looked down at his hands. "Ah – here is the report, Monsieur le Maire. All seems well for the time being."

Madeleine accepted the papers, perusing through them at leisure as he made his way to his desk and chair. "Fine job, Inspector. You have done exceptionally well, you should be proud."

Javert fidgeted, gloved fingers playing with the corner of his hat. "Thank you, Monseiur le Maire," he murmured at length.

At the other man's tone, Madeleine looked up from the report in his hands. A small frown curved his mouth. "Pardon me for asking, Inspector, but are you alright?" A glimmer of concern reflected in the light of his brown eyes. "You must be tired."

Javert blinked several times before snapping out of his reverie, shaking his head. "Forgive me, Monsieur le Maire, it's just…" Javert gestured towards his hair, cheeks tinged pink. "Did — did you…"

"Did I touch your hair?"

Javert swallowed, but nodded firmly.

Madeleine laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Neither of us are real heavy sleepers, now are we?" He laid the papers in his hand down before him on the table, fingers splayed as he spread them out. "But if you must know, I did indeed."

It wasn't until Javert cautiously cleared his throat did Madeleine glance up again. He had almost forgotten the Inspector hadn't left, he had been so silent. "Yes, Inspector?" Javert still looked uneasy, as if something troublesome was weighing on him like a burden.

"I…" Javert cleared his throat again, unable to meet Madeleine's eyes. "Monsieur le Maire, there's… something else on my mind else I wish to share… If I am permitted to speak about it, that is."

Madeleine abandoned his place behind his desk to stand beside it, offering Javert his full attention. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"It's about the… the… a week ago, when you…" Javert hesitated before pointing to the corner of his mouth meekly.

"The kiss," Madeleine whispered to himself as if confirming a doubt. Straightening a little, he struggled to convince Javert to meet his eye. "Did I make you uncomfortable, Inspector?"

"Yes. No!" Javert flinched. "I mean — it… it is not my place to say…"

Madeleine took a step forward. "Then let us speak as friends, not associates." Another step. It was if he was judging Javert's reaction each time he narrowed the gap between them. Another step. He was within an arm's length's distance when Javert took a sharp intake of breath, and he stopped. "It would ease my conscience as it would yours to hear what is bothering you… Inspector."

For the briefest of moments, Javert's blue eyes met his. Then he glanced away again. "I want to know… why you did it."

A lapse of silence passed between them, the only sound the muted hustle and bustle in the factory below. At last, Madeleine spoke softly. "Would you permit me to show you, rather than tell you?"

At this, Javert said nothing. Inclining his head, _le maire _took a tentative step forward again. Javert allowed it. He allowed another step, then another, until they were breast to breast. "Javert." Madeleine felt rather than heard Javert's breath shudder on his cheek as he leaned forward to whisper in the Inspector's ear, "Would you permit it?"

Javert almost trembled. "I do permit it."

The hat dropped to the floor. Madeleine's hands cupped Javert's jaw just as Javert grasped _le maire_'s cloak securely in his fists. Madeleine guided Javert's lips to his, coaxing reassuringly, and they fumbled awkwardly for a moment before their mouths slid into place. Javert was surprisingly eager, eyes shut tightly, lashes tickling Madeleine's cheekbones. Madeleine kissed the same corner of Javert's mouth again, having fulfilled his promise.

* * *

_9 years later_

Marius was safe and Cosette happy at last.

Valjean, exhausted, leaned against a cold stone wall; the chill seeped through his clothes, numbing his skin. He let out a heavy sigh as his eyes flitted up to the night sky. The moon bathed France's streets in silver light, casting shadows darker than night itself. No one roamed outside at this hour, but Valjean found it oddly comforting. At this moment, there was peace. The dreadful barricade battle was ended. He was free from the stench of the sewers. Marius had been seen by a doctor and returned to Cosette's side.

And then there was Javert. Javert, who, having realized he was no Monsieur Madeleine but truly former convict 24601 – Jean Valjean, had broken off all ties and feelings between them. Javert, who had incessantly followed him in order to bring him back in chains. Javert, who had allowed him to escape with his life and therefore, freedom.

Why had he done it? Was it because he, Valjean, had previously spared his life at the barricade? Was it perhaps because he still felt an inkling of sentiment somewhere in his guarded heart?

Valjean continued walking, letting his feet guide him. He passed several puddles that reflected his weary face, his hair streaked with gray. He was older, wiser, sadder. He had played his role as father and protector well and now that his job was finished, he felt both complete and empty.

He had loved Javert, that much was true. What had passed between them in those few, short months had been unforgettable. Was it really no surprise, then, that when he finally halted, he found himself in front of the police station?

If Valjean was anything, he was a man of his word. A brief memory flashed in his mind's eye at the scene of Fantine's passing – Javert had confronted him at her bedside, demanding he give himself up in justice's name. Valjean had swore, at the time, if Javert was merciful and allowed him three day's time, he'd willingly give himself in. But Cosette had needed a father and things had taken a different turn. Now, however… now he could finally fulfill yet another promise.

Valjean let out a long exhale, his breath forming a cloud of mist in the crisp air. He stepped inside, quickly intercepted by an officer.

"State your name and your business," he demanded, glaring at Valjean with calculating eyes.

Wordlessly, Valjean raised his sleeve, revealing his prisoner number. The officer's eyes widened marginally, his mouth set in a grim line. "Inspector Javert has been expecting you, 24601," the man murmured, grasping Valjean's upper arm firmly. "It's been almost twenty years, hasn't it? Funny you should just turn yourself in like this. Finally tired of running?"

Valjean was escorted through a number of hallways, the men's boots echoing off the hard floor. At last they reached the end of a short corridor, a large, decorated door the sign of their destination. The officer stepped forward, only to be interrupted by a voice.

"Officer Moreau!" The officer beside Valjean glanced towards the person who had called him, a man of about the same rank. "You're needed on the second floor immediately."

Moreau hesitated, then nodded firmly. Eyeing Valjean warningly, he made his way after his associate. "Let yourself in. Attempting to run now would be a very poor choice." And then he was gone and Valjean was left alone.

Valjean's fingers trailed down the door's dark frame, fingertips resting on the handle. Should he knock? Announce his presence before entering? He remembered back to his days as mayor when Javert always waited to be granted permission to enter. Deciding it was only polite, Valjean rapped his knuckles against the door.

There was no answer. Perhaps Javert wasn't in his office after all? Valjean had just assumed he'd return here, of all places, after letting him go, and Officer Moreau seemed to believe he was in there, too. Daring the Inspector's wrath, Valjean grasped the handle and let himself in.

A startlingly familiar sight welcomed him. There lay Javert, at his desk, asleep. Valjean closed the door softly behind him, momentarily forgetting that he and Javert were not exactly on friendly terms. All he wanted to do, then and there, was gather the man in his arms as he had nine years ago, to kiss and to cherish and to love. Feeling almost as if he were viewing the sight from another body, Valjean drew nearer.

Javert's head rested upon his forearms and Valjean saw, with a lurch to his heart, his rosary held loosely in one of his bare hands. He had kept it despite the events that had conspired. Valjean looked away for a moment, his breath shaky.

Hardly caring what would happen as a result, the former convict slowly made his way around the desk to stand by Javert's side. A sad smile twisted his lips, his crinkled eyes shimmering with nostalgia. Valjean tenderly reached out a hand, fingertips frozen in place before he made the final step over the line – he ran his fingers through Javert's hair, relishing the sensation he had missed for almost a decade.

Javert was awake in an instant and on his feet in the next. The rosary lay abandoned on the desk; Javert's hands had flown to grab the pistol at his side but realized too late that he had thrown it away after sparing Valjean's life. Setting his jaw grimly, the Inspector's eyes flashed dangerously as he recognized exactly who he was facing.

"Why are you here?" he growled lowly, brow furrowed. Valjean thought he had seen a flicker of emotion somewhere in the depths of those blue eyes, but if he had, there was no trace of it now.

"I have returned to fulfill a promise I made to you long ago."

Javert scoffed. "Your promises mean nothing to me, Valjean."

Valjean extended his wrists towards Javert, his prisoner number visible. "Does this one mean anything to you?"

Javert continued to glare at him until Valjean's words settled in. Once he realized the man was giving himself up to be chained again, a triumph transformed his features. The Inspector seemed to grow bolder; his hands twitched, as if only too eager to at last have 24601 back in jail where he belonged. Their days of chase were over, Javert would be satisfied at last!

But Valjean was shocked to see Javert suddenly wilt, his shoulders sagging in defeat. The triumph was gone, replaced by hurt and – was that regret? Javert turned away as Valjean slowly advanced, uncertain what Javert's next move would be.

"Javert," he murmured as he closed the gap between them. The bearded man refused to meet his eye but didn't recoil from his touch. Sensing an unsaid, reluctant invitation, Valjean carefully reached for Javert's waist, pulling him close. Javert still can't look him in the eye, refuses to, unwilling to return the tenderness.

But Valjean is patient, Valjean is kind, and he would wait another decade, a century, if he has to. As the moments pass he is eventually rewarded as Javert yields, a small, wanting whimper escaping his lips as Valjean presses his lips to Javert's neck.

"I prayed you'd come," Javert whispered as Valjean continues to bathe him in endless, affectionate kisses. "I prayed to God you'd find me, but…"

"But?"

"But I also prayed you'd have the wisdom to leave me."

Valjean pauses, eyes begging for an explanation. "I do not understand."

Javert's hands rest on Valjean's chest, gripping the fabric of his coat. "Do you not see? I have no choice now but to turn you in. You – you were such a fool to come, they've surely seen you—"

"Run away with me."

A moan leaves Javert's throat as Valjean mouths at his jaw, his ear. "Valjean, I can't—"

"Run away with me," he repeats in earnest. "We'll return to my home in Rue Plumet. Please, Javert."

Javert appears pained, shaking his head. "Valjean, why – why do you ask this of me…"

Valjean nudges the Inspector's nose softly, pleadingly. "I would gladly give myself in, I've already done so… but is that what you want?"

The other man sighs, closing his eyes. "All this time, I had believed so… but now…"

"Now?"

Javert shakes his head, resting his forehead on Valjean's. "There is nothing for me here, now; I have disgraced my position. I have failed and would be dead if it were not for your intervention."

"Then… you'll come?"

Javert looks at Valjean sadly and all Valjean can think of is to rid him of such melancholy. He brings their lips together for the first time in nine years and suddenly they can't get enough of each other. Their hands fumble to grasp one another, to run fingers through each other's hair, to bring themselves as close as possible. Javert clings to Valjean desperately as if he would slip away if he dared to loosen his grasp. But Valjean wasn't leaving, not without Javert; he'd do anything and everything to convince Javert he meant it. Undoing the first few clasps of Javert's uniform, Valjean gently sucked at the Inspector's collarbone.

"Jean—" Javert gasped, and before he could regret having spoken Valjean's first name for the first time, Valjean's mouth was back on his in an instant.

"Will you come and live with me?" Valjean spoke again between kisses. "Would you permit it?"

Javert melted into his embrace, affirmation ready on his lips. "I do permit it."


End file.
